Wanting Forever

Part 8

"My name...I tell two different versions of that story." Her eyes settled on him for a moment and her head tilted to the side just a little. "The version for public consumption is that the record keeper at the hospital misheard my mother, recorded the wrong name, and my mother decided she liked 'Effone,' so she never bothered to change it. I usually tell people that my name was supposed to be Effemy, which is a variant of the Greek name Euphemia and means 'well-spoken.' The truth, however, isn't..." She shook her head once with a slow deliberate movement and let out a short, rough laugh. "It isn't uplifting."

Trace idly chewed on a leftover hushpuppy and watched her, hoping she'd continue. He'd do anything to keep her talking. "You don't have to tell me, but I really am curious."

The way she smiled—it wasn't a real smile. It was one of those tight smiles people gave when they didn't know what else to do. "My mother wasn't prepared when I was born. So, when they asked her what my name was she panicked, and because of the pain and drugs she said the first thing she laid eyes on which was a piece of equipment in the room." Effone paused and took a long drink from her bottle. "So, yeah, I'm named after the company that manufactured the infant warmer in my mother's hospital room. And, not even really that but a slurred version of it."

For a moment he didn't know what to say. He was going to ask if her mother decided she liked it and decided not to change it, but there was something about the way she sounded. The story made her tense. And sad. He could tell from her tone of voice that she was very uncomfortable with that truth and he wondered how many people knew this second version. And why had she decided he was worthy of hearing it? He smiled. "That is a much better story than mine. I'm named after my uncle."

"I'd prefer your story," she said quietly before she looked up at him and brightened visibly. "Now, I have a question for you."

"Go on."

She crossed her arms on the table, leaned forward, and turned her head to the side just a little so she looked like she was peering at him. "How old are you?"

"If I answer, you have to tell me how old you are." He was actually taken aback by the question. He'd thought women didn't talk about age. Ever.

"Deal."

"I'm thirty-six. I've been the Captain of the Alexandria for five years." He looked at her expectantly. "Your turn."

Effone rolled her eyes. "I'm thirty-two and a captain for three years. I tried to get the age clock to stop at twenty nine, but, oh well."

"You don't look a day over twenty-one." She really did look younger than thirty-two—except in her eyes. Those eyes had seen a lot through their years, and those eyes were now staring at him so hard it was almost alarming.

"I'm still trying to place you. I know I've run into..." She sat back and blinked. "Holy shit."

"What?" He couldn't tell if she was angry or surprised.

"There's no way you'd remember this, but your friend tried to run me over in the joint terminal building when I was attending ASPECT Academy. I'm ninety percent sure it was you who picked me up off the floor. One of those guys who skittered away from the scene of the crime called you 'Fortis.'"

Trace searched his memory. He did remember the incident—one of his idiot friends hadn't been watching where he was going. A rail-thin girl stood in the middle of the open terminal room, staring straight up at the intricate painting on the ceiling, much like his friend. But the girl was still while his friend was moving. Physically, she was no match for six feet of male, twenty-something muscle. Trace had tried to get his friend to stop walking, to watch where he was going...but she went down hard with a sickening crack of bone against concrete. To his amazement, almost before he could get a hand out to her, she bounced back up as if nothing happened. She didn't cry, she didn't yell, and the bruise on her face and the splint on her hand were pre-existing. She hadn't said anything except with her eyes, which were trained on his friend. Fortunately for the friend, no one had figured out how to make daggers shoot from a look.

He glanced back to Effone. There was no way this woman in front of him could be the same person. Every detail about her was different. But her eyes were definitely familiar, not only the color but also the experiences hidden behind them...

She said, "I was two inches shorter, much scrawnier, my right hand was splinted, my hair was chin length, and the Mallen streak hadn't shown up, but ..." She leaned forward and pointed at him. "I know that was you."

"You look a lot different now. I mean, you didn't look bad then. I was focusing on my studies or I would've sought you out again. Christ..." He dropped his forehead to his hand. This date was officially mangled. Not that it was a date. What was it about her that made him put his foot in it over and over?

Her lips twisted into a decidedly wicked smile. She enjoyed his predicament. "Christ isn't going to help you."

"I'm willing to get religious if that's what it takes to get my foot out of my throat."

Her smile widened to a grin. "How is it that you're single? I mean, I'm making an assumption that you are. Obviously, with that silver tongue of yours..."

Trace nodded with a laugh as he tried to recover himself. "I am single, yes, and that's just the way it is for now." He leaned forward and crossed his arms on the table while tapping the tabletop with one finger, trying to give himself time to come up with the most ridiculous-sounding excuse possible. "Since I strongly believe in treating every one of my crew members in the same manner, I realized I simply don't have time to sleep with an entire carrier of people. So, I had to refuse them all. Those who persist in trying to forge something beyond friendship end up on someone else's ship." He would never sleep with anyone under his command, but he wanted to hear her laugh again and hoped saying something absurd would bring it out.

Effone wrinkled her nose, obviously struggling to contain her laughter, and watched him with some skepticism. "Are you sure they all want to sleep with you?"

"Well, I think it would be self-serving of me to say, 'I don't understand why they look at little-old-me that way.'" He borrowed the move he'd seen her do often that morning and shrugged. "At the risk of sounding like an ass, I don't think I'm that hard to look at."

With a twirl of her bottle, Effone looked up at him from under her eyelashes. "Your confidence is showing."

He widened his eyes in mock horror. "Oh, sorry! How embarrassing!" Then he pretended to zip his pants.

Effone laughed loudly and freely before she slugged back the last of her beer and looked at him with an unsteady gaze. "Are you going to walk me back and try to take advantage of me now?" Her words were un-slurred, although the cadence was a little off.

Trace leaned forward and slowly shook his head. "I don't believe in doing that to people. Life is hard enough without human predators. I'll walk you back, but that's it."

Her expression showed a mix of surprise and relief—and at the same time, just a touch of regret. "Well, that's good. I can respect that." She crossed her arms on the table. "Although if I were to be completely honest, I might be a tiny bit disappointed, too."

It was his turn to be surprised. "You want to be taken advantage of?"

"I'm sure it's the beer talking, but really, who wouldn't want to be taken advantage of by you?" She waved a hand at him. "Or, you know, take advantage of you. You've already mentioned that you know you're easy on the eyes."

Trace nearly bit his tongue. Effone Pacifica was an entirely new breed of woman, one he'd not run into before. She was more than welcome to take advantage of him.

Her eyes flicked from his face, to his chest, to his hands folded on the table. Then she said, "You're right, I don't want to be taken advantage of. No girl in her right mind does. That's not what I meant. Perhaps a mutual exchange of..." She blinked slowly, and her gaze went back to his. "...physicality."

His smile changed a little to something more intimate. "Maybe some other time, when we're not both sloshed? I don't think 'physicality,' as you put it, is something to be entered into lightly. Or drunkenly." He knitted his fingers together. "At least not the first time. Drunk sex is fun, like being on a roller coaster, but the first time I require everyone to be fully in control of the decision-making process."

Effone slowly shook her head while her voice softened. "You are so very different from anyone I've met in a long time."

Trace leaned even closer to her. "Do you like it?"

Effone looked down at the empty beer bottle in her hands before raising her gaze to meet his. "I do. I like it very much."